


Their first walks on the Wayne's garden

by FearfulKitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bullying, Caring Batfamily (DCU), Caring Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain likes ballet, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson is still a child, Gen, I just wanted to write Bruce as a good dad and then this happened, If canon won't do it then I will, Jason Todd is still a child, Overworked Tim, Racism, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, bc I said so, bc i miss walking to school and seeing pretty flowers, no beta we die like robins, so they're on the garden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25177240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FearfulKitten/pseuds/FearfulKitten
Summary: A glimpse into Bruce's relationships with his kids, seen through the first time he took each of them on a walk through his garden.Or: Bruce Wayne actually tries to communicate and care for his children. Because fuck canon.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 20
Kudos: 313





	1. Dick Grayson

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! First of all, thank you for clicking on my work. Second, this doesn't exactly follow canon (bc canon had Bruce being an awful dad) but also doesn't disagree with most of it. It's simply short stories, all set in the same environment. Each chapter will focus around Bruce and a certain kid. This one, as the title says, is focused on Dick and Bruce.
> 
> TW// This chapter talks about racism and bullying. I used a slur in one of the characters lines, but in no way do I (or the character) condone it's use. It's there because said character is reporting a bad event. Those mentions are not graphic and shouldn't make your experience reading this unpleasent, however, if you feel unconfortable with this, please, skip this chapter.

Bruce Wayne is an introspective man with too much to do. Inside the manor, there was usually this unspoken pressure he put on himself and other to always be occupied with something. Of course, living alone, that was probably due to the fact that everyone but him was working on something - working for him. So he felt his quiet restlessness was only fair. If he ever needed to be alone with his thoughs, he would take walks around the garden, when the gardeners – who also worked for him - had already left. Every afternoon, just before the sun would set, he’d stroll through the vast green area that surrounded the building, appreciating every tulip, lily and carnation planted there. He particularly liked the roses Alfred cared for.

He jokingly called them Alfred’s children once. The buttler had told him that if this were true, then Bruce could consider himself the plant’s foster brother.

When Dick moved in, he also took a liking of the garden, although for very different reasons. He liked to be there early in the morning, basking in the sunlight before he went to school, when it was brimming with life and movement. The gardeners treated him like a son, showed him how to care for all the different flowers and plants they had and allowed him to check the bushes for bugs he could save before they’d prune and shape them. Of course, Alfred wasn’t exactly pleased with the habit, since he would always get dirt all over himself before school, and would need to change into a new uniform after being called back inside. However, no matter how upset the extra laundry made him, he would never deny the boy such a simple pleasure; when he first got to the manor, his smile was a rarity to be cherished. Alfred kept a brief mental list of everything that could put a grin on Dick’s face.

One day, after school, Bruce’s stomach felt cold and tight. Something was up with Dick. He knew it, but couldn’t explain why the small boy was gloomier, less fidgety and more still than usual. When inquired, his answer would invariably be:

“It’s nothing B, I’m fine.”

After the third attempt, he decided to approach this matter through a different strategy.

Dick was sitting next to him on the couch, pretending to watch a movie.

“Come with me,” He said, extending his hand to him as he got up “Let’s take a walk.”

He hesitated for a moment, but decided to go. The sun was starting to set, but the clouds still painted the sky white. Bruce’s pace was slow; he wasn’t in a hurry. Dick kept his head down as they walked in silence, but grew more and more nervous by the second. He couldn’t bring himself to speak right now, even if he wasn’t the type to enjoy quiet. Thankfully, Bruce noticed his discomfort and started to talk.

“I do this every day.” He explained “For some reason, it’s almost like I can’t think properly inside. Like there’s not enough room.” Dick kept himself quiet, wich scared the man a little “Of course, that sounds a little silly considering where we live.” At least he could bring a little smile to the boys face. Good. Keep going. “Still, for some reason, my head clears out when I’m outside. I noticed that when I was sixteen, and then the walks became a habit. It’s almost like my version of venting.” The sky was starting to turn pink at that point, and the clouds took on warmer colors to match it “Sometimes, everything can be so chaotic. But here, it’s always so quiet. So beautiful.”

He stopped and kneeled down, examining a pink carnation between his fingers.

“I know something’s up Dick.” He said, trying to sound understanding and caring, unsure on whether he was succeeding in it or not. “You can talk to me, if you want to. Or Alfred. It’s also okay if you prefer to deal with it on your own, but you don’t strike me as the type to keep things to yourself.” He smiled a little, standing up.

“You think I’m a crybaby, don’t you?” Dick sounded more doubtful and hurt than angry as he asked.

“No.” Bruce answered “I think you have a healthier approach to life than I do. You share things. You learn to let go, eventually. I keep silence and carry burdens because I don’t have that skill anymore. You know how to trust people in a way I’ll never be able to. I don’t want you to lose that because you don’t think I want to hear what you have to say.”

“Do you?” He asked, still uncertain and scared. “Want to listen to me, that is?”

“Of course I do, Dick.”

“Okay.” The boy still reflected for a couple of moments “It’s... silly. Some kids at school are making fun of me, and, well, it was harder today I guess.” Bruce had questions. Who were these kids? For how long had this been going on? Why were you keeping it a secret? Still, he bit his tongue. He knew he had to listen now, the questions could come up later “There’s this girl, Lisa. Mr. Hans, the gardener, he told me to give her a flower and tell her how I feel, and Alfred gave me one of his red roses for me to give her. She’s really pretty.” He sighed, ashamed “But she didn’t want it. She laughed and...” His eyes got a little teary and he choked on the words, words that tasted like iron on his mouth and felt like poison on Bruce’s ears “And she told me she’d never be with a dirty gypsy like me.” Dick couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, so he hid his face in his hands before finishing “It’s just... I never thought she’d think like that too. Just the boys was bad, but... It hurts. It hurts so much.” Bruce kneeled down to be at his height, and placed a hand on his shoulder “And then Thomas came up and stomped on the flower, called me a charity case, a circus freak, and pushed me down, and I couldn’t do anything because I didn’t want the reporters to talk about me like they did last time.” He was sobbing now, and Bruce pulled him in a hug, wrapping his arms so tightly around him, desperatly holding his child as he fell apart in front of him.

The last time he mentioned was when he got in a fight at school for the same reasons, on his first week with Bruce. The newspaper wrote a small commentary on him, titled “Richard Grayson-Wayne: Perfect heir or Problem Child?” Dick was so angry. He cried himself to sleep that night. He didn’t tell anyone, but Alfred heard him as he walked away from Bruce’s room.

“I miss... I miss the circus Bruce.” He went on “I know it’s been years now, but I still miss it. I miss moving, and I miss performing there, and I miss my mom and my dad. I wish I could have it back.”

“I know kid.” Bruce said, rubbing circles in his back.

“It was so much easier. So simple.” After a while, the tears subdued a little “I’m sorry Bruce. I don’t want to sound ungrateful. You gave me so much...”

“It’s okay Dick, you’re not ungrateful. It’s normal to miss it.”

They held each other for a little while longer. Dick was the one who let go, when he was ready to. The sky was almost entirely navy blue when they resumed walking. This time, Dick lead them to the white roses and sat down in front of them.

“They are my favorites.” He smiled, taking in their strong scent. “At least for now.”

Bruce sat down next to him and placed a hand on his back.

“Dick, I don’t want to upset you,” He started “But I need to know who’s been making fun of you.”

“It’ll only make things worse Bruce.” He answered, looking down.

“Dick, this is serious.” Bruce insisted.

“It’s just bullying Bruce, I’ll be fine. If you do something, it’ll get worse, trust me.”

“It’s not just bullying Dick.” Bruce turned around to face him, but the boy averted his eyes “Dick, those kids... I know it’s hard, but... Lisa said a very racist thing to you.” His eyes were still fixated at the ground, avoiding Bruce’s “I’ll understand if you don’t want to take action against it Dick, and I’m only trying to protect you, but...”

“It’s Thomas Kline.” Dick interrupted “Thomas Kline, Matthew Peterson, Calvin Harrington and... Lisa Randolph. They are the ones who call me that.” Both of them kept silent for a while, Dick writting patterns on the dirt while Bruce watched him.

“Thank you Dick. I’ll talk to the principal tommorow. And if those kids ever treat you like that again, well...” He smiled “You _are_ Robin. And the media would surely belive you have jiu-jitsu lessons, should things get out of hand.” Dick chuckled a little at that.

“Thanks Bruce.” Dick launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist and burrying his face in his chest.

“No problem.” Bruce smiled as he ran his fingers throug Dick’s dark, messy hair.

...

“Alfred,” Bruce called as he pulled his suit on “I just tucked Dick in. I need to go out for the night.”

“As Bruce Wayne? Or should I worry, master Wayne?”

“Andrew Randolph is throwing a party. I wasn’t planning on attending, but due to current events...” He smoothed his shirt and he walked through the door, Alfred following suit. “We need to talk about his parenting skills.”

...

The next morning, Bruce made the front page. Dick woke up to “Good Morning Gotham!” showing picture’s of him punching Andrew Randolph’s teeth in, in the middle of the socialite’s ball room. The kid’s hair was still smushed on the side, his eyes were a bit puffy and he wore his pajamas as he watched it.

“I don’t know, Charlotte,” One of the anchors commented “The attack seems completly unprovoked.”

“Well, Peter, we have no clue on the content of that conversation.” Charlotte answered “What happened that led the sociable and easy-going billionaire to lose his temper like that?”

“Actually,” The third person, a woman named Nadia, began speaking “When asked about the incident by one of our reporters, Bruce Wayne answered with a simple ‘I don’t appreciate any kind of prejudice. Especially if it’s directed towards my son.’ It’s safe to say that what provoked the fight was, most likely, an unnapreciated comment on Richard Grayson-Wayne’s romani heritage.”

Dick turned off the TV and turned to the man queitly sipping his coffee behind him.

“What did you _do_ last night?”


	2. Jason Todd

When he moved in, Jason also liked the garden. Just as he liked the enormous living room. And the fancy kitchen. The expensive dining room. The huge bathrooms. The only thing he knew he loved more than anything else was his bedroom. Oh, and the batcave. He loved the batcave. Jason’s enthusiasm brough the spark the manor had been missing since Dick left.

Mr. Hans, however, missed Dick dearly, even more so after the new arrival; the older boy was careful and minded the plants, respecting his hard work on them. He liked to listen and learn, and always greeted him with a smile. Jason on the other hand, was a ball of energy that couldn’t be contained, and he had smashed through rose bushes, getting spikes all over his body, more times than he cares to remember. Alfred was particularly upset when he ruined the white roses once. Jason made a mental note to keep away from those.

He couldn’t help it. When your whole life has been marked by the grayish asphalt from Gotham’s streets and the distinct smell of mold covered everywhere you’ve ever lived, having a mansion with such a beautiful garden, so colorful, filled with pleasant scents, well, that still felt like a dream. So he ran, and fell, and crashed into things, and was completly careless. Of course he did. For the first time in his life, _he could_. He could be careless. He could run just because he felt like it, not because he had to run from someone. He could crash into things, because if they broke, they’d be replaced. He could play. He could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and be _safe_ while doing it. He could fall and get hurt because someone would help him up and tend to his wounds.

One saturday, before lunch, Bruce looked out of the window and saw Jason in the garden again, chasing after a stray cat that somehow found it’s way into the manor. He decided to join him.

By the time he reached the garden, the cat had already escaped.

“No luck catching it?” Bruce asked.

“No.” Jason pouted “I was hoping we could keep it.”

“I don’t think that would be the best idea. I have more than enough feline troubles with Catwoman alone.” Bruce looked down, hands behind his back.

“Speaking of her,” The boy started “I was thinking, maybe I’m ready to go out with you? The suit fits nice and...”

“You’re not ready yet, Jason.” The man cut him off “It took almost a year for... The previous Robin to be ready.”

“Yeah, but I’m not like Dick, I grew up fighting.”

“Jason, I said no.”

“Okay.” Jason pouted again “You’re the boss.”

Bruce breathed deeply.

“Come take a walk with me.”

“Where are we going?” Jason asked, causing the man to smile.

“We’re not going anywhere, Jay. We’ll just walk through the garden.” He answered.

“But... What’s the point in that?” He looked up, eyes a little narrowed due to the sun.

“Appreciating the flowers. What’s the point of spending so much money on it if no one sees it’s beauty?” Bruce said, looking ahead “Besides, don’t you enjoy spending time here too?”

“Yeah, but like, to run.” Jason answered “It’s pretty and it has space. So I like to run here.” They walked in silence for some time. The boy got bored and decided to go ahead of him, doing cartwheels and other stunts. It made Bruce smile, watching him being a child. All of sudden, he stopped and came back, walking next to each other again “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s okay Jason. I asked you to walk _with_ me, not _like_ me.” The child nodded.

“That makes sense.” He kicked a pebble on the ground “But it still isn’t nice leaving you all alone.”

“But you’re not leaving me all alone Jay.” He replied, looking to the kid next to him “You’re only a little distant, doesn’t mean you’re not here.” The kid looked up, and Bruce placed a hand on his shoulders as they walked “You are a very considerate person. It’s a good trait to have.”

“Thank you.”

Suddenly, Jason stopped again, and Bruce felt his skinny arms around his body. He was hugging him for the first time. It was over as quickly as it started, and he stared down at his feet.

“You are really nice. And you have a very nice home. Thanks for, y’know... bringing me here.” He dashed off before Bruce could answer, cartwheeling away from him, this time in a pace fast enough to signify he didn’t feel like talking anymore. Bruce let him go, not being able to contain the smile plastered in his face.


	3. Tim Drake

Tim wasn’t much of a nature guy. Or an outside guy. Or even a sunshine guy, really. His pale skin could absorb enough D vitamin in five minutes next to the living room window or get nothing at all. He needed to be productive, and being outside wouldn’t help with that. What does help is the batcave, filled to the brim with the most modern tech in existence and all kinds of tools one could imagine or need to do absolutely anything, and no sunlight or fresh air. He spent most of his time there.

Bruce got increasingly worried about his behaviour. Tim had a brilliant mind and when he’d put it to work he always accomplished things Bruce hadn’t ever thought possible, noticing ways to improve perfectly functional equipments and turn them into perfect pieces of machinery, but he hand a tendency to forget that he also needed to be in a decent enough shape to use them. He went down to the cave once, finding Tim staring at the screen, hands shoved into his black hair and looking a little lost.

“Tim,” He called, climbing down the stairs “Is everything okay?”

“Sort of.” He ran a hand down his face and yawned “I’m stuck.” He stretched his arms back like a tired kitten “I want to see if I can convert the batmobile into an eletric car without losing horsepower, but, apparently, I can’t. Except that there _must_ be a way, there’s something I’m missing, I’m sure.”

“How long have you been here for?” Bruce frowned.

“What time is it?” He asked, spinning his chair around to face the other.

“Four in the afternoon.”

“Then...” He thought for a second “Maybe six hours? I took a quick break to pick up lunch.” Bruce’s eyes met an empty bowl. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Please tell me you didn’t have cereal for lunch.” Tim started at him in silence “Was it the sugary kind?” The teen nodded and the man sighed.

“Hey, at least it wasn’t ice cream.” Tim shrugged, turning his chair back to the screen “I mean, I would’ve, but Dick ate the last of it as his dinner. Go bother him about it.”

“I’ll ask Alfred to make you a sandwich.” Bruce walked towards the stairs.

“C’mon Bruce,” The teen complained “I’m fine.”

“I’m not _asking_ you to eat it, I’m _telling_ you to eat it.” The man left the cave, hearing Tim’s annoyed groans. He ignored the protests and walked towards the kitchen, calling for Alfred.

“I don’t know, sometimes I worry about him.” Bruce leaned back against the marble countertop “Am I underestimating him? Should I trust him? I mean, he’s not a regular teenager. Maybe I should just... let him be?”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said, not looking up from the sandwich he was assembling “Teenagers should never be trusted to take care of their own health. I’d expect you to know that by now, sir.” Bruce breathed in again, but the butler cut him off “I believe, sir, that this is the best decision you’ve made regarding master Tim in a while.” The man raised an eyebrow at the backhanded compliment.

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.”

Bruce took the sandwich and left, finding Tim still in the same postion, most likely going over the same calculations again, trying to find a solution to the non-issue that was the batmobile’s gas consumption. He sighed.

“Tim,” He called from the top of the cave’s metal staircase “Come take a walk with me.”

The young man opened his mouth to protest, but met Bruce’s serious gaze and decided it wasn’t worth it. He got up and followed him outside, taking the food he was given gratefully, realizing he was hungrier than he noticed. They walked all the way to the garden, Tim biting his way through the sandwich quietly.

“Bruce,” He asked between bites “What are we doing?”

“Taking a break.” He answered, watching the pink carnations growing to his right side.

“Why?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Why not?”

“Because we still have work to do.” Tim replied “People depend on us to do it.”

“Tim, you were trying to turn my car eletric for six hours straight. That’s not exactly our work.”

“Aren’t you ever afraid we might run out of gas during a mission? Besides, it’s greener.” Tim shrugged “Why shouldn’t I try to improve the thing we use? I can do it, and the better our stuff works, the more good we can do.”

“It’s not about that Tim.” Bruce glanced down at the paved walkway to kick a small rock away “I think it’s great that you are so dedicated to this. You’re a genius, and you can achieve whatever it is that you set your mind on. However, there’s no point in overworking yourself to such an extent as you do.” Tim kept quiet, finishing his sandwich “How many hours of sleep do you get every night?”

“Usually about four hours.” Bruce almost choked.

“You should be getting at least eight. Ideally nine or ten.” Tim rolled his eyes.

“You worry too much. I’m fine.”

“I think I haven’t been worring enough.” Bruce stopped suddenly “I haven’t been taking care of you like I should. I’m sorry.”

“Bruce, there’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m fine.” Tim insisted.

“No. You haven’t been eating properly, or sleeping properly, or even having any adequate amount of leisure time at all.” Bruce shook his head.

“Bruce. Don’t. I’m okay.” Tim repeated “Seriously. I like this life, I feel like I’m made for it, and I don’t mind feeling tired.”

“Tim, this life requires some sacrifices, but not nearly as many as you make. And that’s not what this is about. How do you plan on taking care of Gotham if you won’t even take care of yourself?”

“I am taking care of myself!”

“You’re surviving. That’s not the same thing. Look,” Bruce argued “Here’s what you’re going to do; at least eight hours of sleep and one hour of break. Fifteen minutes in the sun, everyday, away from any screens, and we’ll have every meal together to make sure you’re eating appropriately for the amount of physical effort you’re putting in.”

“That’s too much Bruce.”

“Those are basics Tim.” He crossed his arms “I’m asking you to sleep, eat and sunbathe. I’m not cutting off your arm.”

“Yeah, but like, eight hours of sleep, plus one hour break and around two more hours if you include every meal of the day, that leaves me with only thirteen hours, and several of those will be occupied with school.” Tim complained.

“If you won’t comply, I’ll lock you out of the batcave.”

Tim stared at him, exasperated.

“Oh, c’mon!” He threw his hands up.

“Look, Tim, I know this might not make sense right now...” He set a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“It really doesn’t.”

“But I spent most of my life neglecting my own needs and it took me a lot to recover from it. I’m still recovering from it. I won’t allow you to do that to yourself. I will not sit and watch as your mental and physical health deteriorates in front of my eyes.” Tim kept quiet “I’m not asking you to like it. You don’t have to like it. However, I am your legal guardian. And I’m asking you to respect and trust my decisions as Bruce as much as you respect and trust my decisions as Batman.”

“Fine.” He looked down, but seemed a little less grumpy “You can go now. I’ll spend my fifteen minutes in the sun.” Bruce nodded and walked back inside.

Tim paced around for a couple of minutes, trying to make sense of what he felt. He was angry, right? Angry for being treated like a child. But wasn’t he a child? He sat down next to the geraniums, legs stretched out in front of him, feeling the sun warming up his skin and the flower’s scent invading his nose. He threw his head back, sunshine finding it’s way to his pale neck, and tears gathered in his eyes.

That was the first time Bruce had scolded him. It was the first time anyone scolded him in a long, long time. Tim leaned back, laying down on the cemented floor. He felt... weirdly good. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to hate him and scream, and throw a fit over Bruce’s decision. But he couldn’t. He was annoyed, sure, yet he wasn’t angry, not really. The man’s decision made sense after all. And having the sun directly on his skin felt good. Really good.

The teen turned his head to the side, studying the velvety-looking pink and purplish flowers growing in bushes. Stretching his hand out, he felt one petal under his finger tips, warm tears flowing out of his eyes. His vision got blurry and he looked back up again. He was sobbing now, there was no point in holding it back anymore. He covered his face with his hands for a while. They smelled like bread so that didn’t last long.

Once he opened his eyes again, Dick was sitting by his side.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yes.” He sobbed. Tim sat up, and threw his arms around his brother’s neck. Dick held him tightly “I-I... I just... I...”

“Shh...” The older man whispered “It’s okay. Take your time.”

“I...” He breathed in “I think... Think I’m... I’m his son.” Tim was full-on ugly crying on his brother’s shoulder, but couldn’t gather any strenght to care. He was falling apart in front of someone and it felt good. For the first time since his early childhood, he allowed himself to be held. He never realized how desperatly he craved this “I think he wants me to be, Dick.”

“Of course he does Tim.” He reassured the kid “We’re family.”


	4. Cassandra Cain

Cassandra doesn’t talk much, but she notices everything. She notices the glaring tension between Bruce and Jason, she notices how tired Tim looks all of the time, she notices the patterns Dick follows when it comes to spending time at the manor, she notices how Alfred’s clothes are always impecable, except for that one particular day when his right cufflink wasn’t as neatly tied and she could tell he wasn’t okay. She never asked why, but she noticed it.

She was trained to notice it, so wheter or not it’s in her nature she can’t tell, neither does she feels the need to figure it out; it’s an useful skill to have, both in combat and in life, and that saved her many times before. Sometimes it’s amusing when people take her for an oblivious teen because she won’t necessarily point out all that she sees. Of course, her father and sibilings know better than that, but Gotham’s rich snobs always underestimate her, which leads to her knowing many of the secrets they spill around her. They can be infuriating, surely, but whenever she’s treated poorly her brothers won’t hesitate on breaking a nose or two.

All of that comes to say that she noticed the routine walks Bruce takes in his property. She still wonders why does he bother taking them. Cass decided to find out today, so she waited for him to pass by the living room, headed to the garden. It was around 18:40 pm when he came by. She stood up, enough movement to catch the man’s attention, and signed at him, asking where he was going (as if she didn’t know).

“The garden. I’m taking a walk, would you like to join me?” He asked. Cass nodded and followed him outside.

She could talk now, she had been learning. But it’s so hard and so confusing sometimes, so taxing, that she tends to sign whenever she needs to communicate. And sometimes Cass doesn’t communicate at all, because she doesn’t feel the need to. Her family respects her wishes and space, but she can tell when her sibilings start to worry about her quietness, so she will throw in a question or two about whatever she can come up with, just as way to tell them she’s okay. She’s not sure if they caught up to what she does yet.

Cass and Bruce walked together at a slow pace. The sky wasn’t all dark yet, and the stars were hidden behind the still too bright sky, even though the sun had already set. She laid her eyes on a bright, colorful, flying insect. What was the name? Not an ant, not a beetle... Butterfly. It was a butterfly, flying over purplish flowers. Cass kept her gaze fixated on it, watching it’s small yellow wings carry it around, landing on flowers, in a very innefective and beautiful path. Bruce noticed his daughter watching it intently, and stopped by her side.

“Beautiful.” She said, quietly “Like ballet.” He was silent, and she felt the need to elaborate, but was unsure on how. She gave it a try “Too many turns. Circles. Not a very fast way to move. But nice to watch.”

“Yes. They really are beautiful creatures.” Bruce smiled, watching how the girl concentrated on the little creature in front of her. The yellow insect landed on a flower for a second before flying off. Cassandra straightened her posture and they kept walking “Do you want to enroll in ballet classes?” Cass eyes widened with interest for a second. She looked down.

“No time.” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Give it a try, if it’s too much you can always quit.” He said. She stopped walking, so they could talk better. Cass signed, explaining what was in her head.

“Joining ballet classes would take time off of batgirl. I don’t want that. If I’m not perfect, people will get hurt, and it will be my fault.”

“Cass, you don’t have to dedicate all of your time to training and fighting to be a good fighter.” Bruce signed too “It’s important to do things you enjoy doing every now and again. Besides, ballet will keep you active. Learning how to dance might even improve on your fighting skills.”

Cass pondered on it for a moment before signing back, saying she’ll consider it.

They kept walking around, as the stars filled the sky and the full moon light up the garden. It was so bright tonight that they barely needed the artificial lights to illuminate their way. Cass noticed how the flowers looked pretty under the moonlight, almost as much as they did in the sun. A more melancholic beauty, but beauty nonetheless. The blue hue the night brought upon them made everything calmer, but she had a buzzing feling inside. They’d be going on patrol at any minute now. The sun was down, the moon was up, and she should be suiting up. So should Bruce. They started making their way back, still slowly.

“Why do you walk every day?” Cass asked. She realized it was a confusing question, and tried to make it clearer “Outside. Here.”

“Because I find this place beautiful. And it gives me space to think. Or not.” He responded.

“Why not think inside? I can think inside.” She insisted. He smiled.

“Sometimes, Cass, The mansion and it’s movements can feel... suffocating. Maybe it’s partly due the memories it brings up in me.” Cass could understand that. He spent his life there, surely there were a lot of things he remembers “But still... This garden... Maybe it’s the open sky, maybe it’s the flowers... Feels freeing. Doesn’t it?” She nodded.

“Like a butterfly.”

...

After coming back from patrol, Bruce needed an icepack. Cass tossed him one without being asked, like usual. She took off her mask.

“Batman... Uh, Bruce...”

“Yes, Cass?” The man answered, cowl hanging from his neck.

“I... want to do it.” He looked a little confused “Ballet. Can I?”

“Oh!” he grinned “Of course. We’ll look at some good studios in Gotham first thing tomorrow, okay?” She nodded happily “Now hit the showers Cass. We had a busy night, you should rest.”


	5. Damian Wayne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So, this is the last chapter. I want to thank everyone that kept up with it and left kudos and comments! Y'all made my days a little lighter, and I hope I was able make your days a little lighter too in these confusing times. I am planning on eventually doing a follow up for this series, with them all grown up and maybe reflect on their changes, but for the moment I'm caught up writing a Batfam supernatural AU fic, so if that's your thing, then stick around. Also, I'll be posting more one-shot works on my tumblr. I love you all, stay safe :)

No one knew this, but Damian had a favorite period of the day. He liked the afternoon, before the sun had set, when it was almost too bright and blinding, yet yellow and soft at the same time. When he had the chance, he’d use these hours to draw under the sunlight. Today, he had the chance, and he sat on the ground, adding never ending details to the picture of Titus as the dog napped besides him. He was marveled by how the sun hit his fur, making it look sleek and shiny.

He slowly breathed in and out, setting his work aside, leaning his head back, feeling the harsh and warm ground under his palms. The scent of roses filled the air. Alfred’s bushes were the ones closest to the building, surrounding the house. At first, Damian viewed it as a matter of worth; roses were an expensive flower, so they should be closer to the manor, protected by the cheaper plants. Of course, now he could understand the placement was merely a matter of convinience. If they were on the edge of the garden Alfred’s time with the plants would be cut short due to the distance he’d have to walk, which lead to the decision from his grandfather (or he assumed so, seen as Bruce was opposed to any major changes on the house’s appearence) of keeping them closer. There were many expensive flowers planted on the edge of the garden.

He heard footsteps that he recognized as his father’s.

“That looks really good Damian.” He said, looking at the drawing on the floor.

“It’s not finished yet.” He replied, not looking at Bruce’s face. He heard him shift his weight.

“Well then.” He was unconfortable, that much Damian could tell “I didn’t know you draw.”

“Me neither.” He shrugged “I started drawing here. Mother wasn’t exactly fond of me waisting time with the arts. As the... Demon’s son, this isn’t what was expected of me.”

“I see.”

“Is there something wrong father?” He looked up.

“No.” Bruce sat down besides him, and the boy moved his gaze to the flowers in front of them. “I see you like Alfred’s roses.”

“They’re well cared for.”

“Indeed.”

“Tell me.” Damian turned his head to face him. His father seemed confused “I can tell you came here because you need to tell me something.”

“I just...” He sighed, and his head dropped “I know I haven’t been exactly a loving father. I...”

“Spare me father.” Damian interrupted “You and I both know I’m well past the need for coddling.” He looked ahead again “I have no use for that in my life.”

“What I meant to say is that lately I feel like I have been seeing you too much as Robin and too little as Damian.”

“Don’t apologize for this father. Knowing you judge me worthy of being Robin is enough for me.”

“It’s not enough for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m your father, not your coach. I should be... Doing things fathers do. Taking you to the park, reading for you at night...”

Damian thought for a moment.

“Tell me father, did you have those thoughts about Grayson too, in his childhood?” Bruce looked at him, a little confused, but didn’t respond “Did you took him to the park? Did you read for Todd? Maybe you did it for Drake? Or Cain?” The man raised his eyebrows and swallowed.

“Not as often as I wish I had.”

“I’m well aware.” He looked at his father “I’m not like them. I don’t want to go to the park, or play catch, or having a bed time story read to me. And if I want any of those things, I’m sorry, I wouldn’t ask them of you.” Bruce wasn’t sure on how to continue this conversation, but he didn’t have to “Don’t be upset. I’m not saying I wouldn’t want to spend time with you. I like spending time with you. I simply don’t think you’d enjoy those mundane activities as much as... Say Grayson or Jon, as an example. So I ask them, because they get something out of this too.”

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t get something out of it too?” Bruce inquired. Damian got quiet for a second.

“Instinct.” Bruce smiled.

“For the first time in forever, Damian, you are wrong.”

“How come?”

“Your experience with family is...skewed.” He sighed “I’m not like the Al Ghul’s Damian.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“No. It’s supposed to show you that I do take pleasure on partaking in ‘mundane activities’ with you.”

“Oh.”

“However, I will understand if you don’t have any wish on interacting with me in that way.”

Damian once again was silent, pensive. A bee set itself on a blue rose for a moment before going back to it’s hive. He opened his mouth:

“Maybe... Not a park, but... It’s been a while since I’ve last practiced rock climbing.” He stared at his father.

“I’ll arrange a trip. Is saturday a good day for you?”

“Yes.” Bruce nodded and moved to get up “Wait.” He asked “Stay here. The sun will set soon.”

“Okay.” He accepted the invitation, and settled again.

They sat side by side, none of them saying a word. The silence was confortable. It was a rare warm day in Gotham, and Bruce soon had to shrug off his suit, leaving it behind him. The boy held his legs close to his chest as the sky slowly turned orange, and the clouds took on a pink tone. He scooted closer to his father, setting his head on his broad shoulders, sighing happily. Maybe mundane is nice too.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! If you liked my writing, please, consider following me on tumblr @fearfulkittenwrites. You can leave me requests for fics there! I'd love to write you something. I also have other works on the batfam that might interest you.  
> Also, this is not beta read and I might have let an embarassing mistake in the text :( If I did, please let me know in the comments, it helps me improve my writing.  
> Thank you so much for reading it!! 💜💜💜


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